


Like Rabbits?

by TaleWeaver



Series: No Dungeons Just Dragons [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU: Dungeons & Dragons, But not exactly, Drunken sex, F/M, Jon's still obsessed with Sansa's wolf bits, hunting animals for food, references to similarly themed animes in here too, word count? we don't need no stinking word count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 01:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20163151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Written for @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles sugar and spice event day 5: Clothes/FoodOn the second day of their idyll, Jon hunts a rare find, and he and Sansa eat, drink, talk and mate.Content Warning: Jon goes hunting for food, meaning that he kills and butchers an animal. It's not detailed, but vegans and vegetarians might want to skip this one.





	Like Rabbits?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts).

> I put up a drabble-length portion of this on my tumblr for the @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles event, but THIS is the proper fic, with extra world-building and smut.
> 
> Given the mentions of the Starks, wolfsblood, and Oberyn Martell here, it occurred to me that I should maybe clarify some things that I only mentioned in comments before now.
> 
> The Starks: Ned and Catelyn are in Winterfell – their children are Robb (paladin) Sansa (sorceress) and Bran (a once a century ranger/cleric/sorcerer mix, and they have no fucking idea why or how that happened – until he starts talking about 3-eyed ravens). There might be a couple more OC children, but I haven’t made up my mind yet. Brandon died young, possibly being killed by an enraged husband. Benjen (Ranger) didn’t go to the Night’s Watch, and started a cadet branch of House Stark at Moat Cailin instead. His children are Arya (Rogue; Assassin) and Rickon (Barbarian). This is mostly because I knew that Arya would be the Rogue of the Snowblood Party, and removing Arya from Winterfell was the quickest way to free her and Sansa’s relationship from all their canon baggage. I thought she should have a sibling, so Rickon moved too (they may also have a Snow older brother thanks to their uncle Brandon). 
> 
> Snows/Martells: The biggest change here, which I didn’t actually think about until a comment on #4 Idyll, is that Lyanna is a Snow, too (either by Rickard or a brother that GRRM never mentioned). Meaning no betrothal to Robert, and when she was seduced by Rhaegar, no one cared enough to start a war, thus Benjen didn’t exile himself to the NW from guilt. When Lyanna was pregnant with Jon, she and Elia fell in love. Rhaegar quietly deposed Aerys when the madness started showing, partly out of sexual frustration that both his wife and mistress kicked him out of bed to share one of their own.  
Oberyn went from ‘Rhaegar humiliated my sister in public with a mistress!’ *battle flames* to ‘Elia just sent me a scroll saying she’s seduced Rhaegar’s mistress, and she’s now Elia’s paramour instead’ *wipes away tear* ‘I’m so proud’.  
So Jon grew up with two mothers, a king, a few brothers and sisters and an aunt and uncle who might as well be, and another bunch of family in Dorne. Jon also has a little brother named Maron Snow (Artificer) with the Martell looks, because Elia and Lyanna wanted their own baby and Oberyn looks so much like Elia that Lyanna had no issues bedding him (while Elia and Ellaria ‘had afternoon tea’).

Jon woke an hour or so past daybreak, feeling far more cheerful and relaxed than he’d been in **years**.

Also, hungry. Not just for Sansa, either.

Jon gently and carefully unwound his body from Sansa’s, and eased out of their bedroll with the same sort of skill and care he’d use sneaking up on a killer mantis. Collecting his clothes from where they’d been tossed the previous day, he tucked yesterday’s smallclothes back into his pack, without bothering to retrieve a fresh pair. After donning trousers, shirt, and spell-guarded jerkin and vambraces, he buckled on his sword-belt. Once Longclaw was settled properly against his hip, Jon gathered his bow and quiver, and tucked a hunting knife down his boot.

Taking a few deep breaths to centre himself, he whispered the incantation for _Territory Awareness_. When the echolocation returned to him, letting him know of every living creature within the range of the spell, he nearly exclaimed loudly in surprise. He returned to his pack to grab a set of throwing spikes, a nameday present from Arya. Stopping only long enough to leave a message for Sansa - two small pyramids of rocks next to the firepit, with a spare hunting knife laid across them – Jon set off on the hunt.

An hour later, Jon returned with a full hunting-bag and an unusually smug feeling. But Jon thought he’d earned it.

Sansa was still snuggled into their bedroll, lying on her side and facing away from him. Jon retrieved their small bucket and Sansa’s pouches of cooking herbs, before he started the fire going again. Once it was burning well, he moved to the pond, near the latrine hole they’d dug, and drew a pail of water. As he skinned and butchered the first carcass, he put aside the head, paws and tail to be respectfully buried later, so the animal’s spirit could be sure to return to the Wolfswood. The innards he banished to the latrine hole with a quick _Refuse_ spell.

Not for the first time, Jon was glad that he’d insisted on Sansa giving cooking lessons to everyone. It would be a true shame to have something so rare to eat, and not be able to prepare it as the meat deserved. He seasoned the carcass, spitted it, and laid it aside to wash his hands in the bucket.

As he set up the first tripod next to the fire, he heard Sansa sleepily calling his name.

Moving around the fire, he crouched near her to set up the second tripod. He looked over at her and smiled.

“Good morning, my love. Breakfast will be ready soon. We’re in for a treat!”

“Mmhmm?” Sansa mumbled.

Jon couldn’t stop smiling – but why should he? “I went hunting this morning-”

“Saw your message. Thought I’d wait for you to come back to bed.”

“Anyway, I got a line on something we’ve never had before, so I took a chance.” Jon reached into the hunting bag, and brought out another carcass.

Sansa squinted at the dead rabbit he held by the ears, then abruptly pushed herself up to lean on one elbow. “Wait... green tinge to the fur, ears longer than the body – is that a **Ragout Rabbit**? I’ve never seen one before! No one at Winterfell has ever eaten one, though Old Nan says my grandfather caught one for his and grandmother Lyarra’s wedding feast.”

Jon grinned smugly. “I found a whole den. I left the adult male and female to breed again, but there were four more near-grown, and I managed to bag all of them! It was the throwing spikes Arya gave me that did the trick.”

“I hope you kept the hides, I can make you something nice from it. Gloves for the summer snows, maybe?”

As Jon placed the spitted rabbit over the fire to cook, he looked over at Sansa, who smiled at him with her hair tumbled and tousled, and her face suspiciously flushed and contented. She looked absolutely radiant.

Jon smiled back, even as he sighed. “You need to cover up, or the rabbit’s going to burn.”

“What, why?” Sansa asked innocently.

Jon nodded at her bare breasts, exposed by the blanket sliding down to her waist. “I can’t think straight with those in view.”

“Oh, **really**?” Sansa purred. She sat up straight, and reached up with one hand to cup her breast. When her thumb rubbed over the hard nipple, Jon groaned and reached for the lacing of his breeches.

Their coupling was swift and primal. Jon didn’t even get his sword-belt off; he simply yanked away the blankets, knelt back on his heels between Sansa’s thighs, and gripped her hips tightly so he could pull her arse up onto his thighs and her cunt onto his cock. When Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist, Jon leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of her head, keeping his arms straight to better brace himself as he started to fuck her with short, brutal thrusts. Sansa reached down to where their bodies met, finding her nub and rubbing in time with the snap of Jon’s hips. She came quickly – Jon suspected she’d been pleasuring herself while he was gone – and Jon grunted like a beast as his seed filled her.

Sansa’s head lolled back as she panted for breath, flushed and glowing in satisfaction. “That was fun.”

Jon grinned down at her. “It was,” he agreed, his chest heaving. 

Then his nose twitched, and he swore in Valyrian. “The ragout!”

To his relief, he reached the fire just in time to keep the legendary meat from burning, although he hadn’t been able to lace his trousers properly. Thinking turnabout was fair play, Jon stripped to the waist once he’d unbuckled his sword-belt. As Jon sliced up the ragout rabbit with one of his hunting knives, Sansa pulled on the shirt he’d discarded.

They folded the blankets into a cushion, and Sansa sat between Jon’s legs, her back to his chest, as they shared a tin plate piled with bite-sized pieces.

Sansa groaned as she tasted the first piece. “Stars and stones, this really is as good as I’ve heard.”

Jon nodded and hummed in agreement, as he swallowed. “Despite the money we could make selling the other ragouts, I’m wondering if we should keep them to eat ourselves and save one for everyone else once we’re back. Speaking of which, we were supposed to head back today. How do we send a message to Pyp so he doesn’t think we’ve been eaten by frenzy boars?”

Sansa picked up his left hand in her own, and ran her fingertip over the square blue-banded stone on the ring he wore on his index finger. “Just use the rings. Arya can send Pyp a raven from Moat Cailin.”

Several months ago, Sansa had climbed a Level when she’d created this spell, which would probably become her Masterwork once she worked out the kinks. She’d cut two fragments from the same Blue Lace Agate, then had an Artificer forge a pair of silver-laced steel rings and set the fragments in them while she cast her spell. It enabled a two-way conversation between the people who wore the rings, regardless of magical abilities, as long as they were within a certain distance. As the Party’s leader, Jon wore one. Sansa insisted that Arya wear the other, due to her tendency to wander away - usually into trouble - whenever the urge struck her.

Jon thought over the implications, and groaned, “We’ll never hear the end of it from Arya.”

Not to mention how Lord Benjen would react once Arya gleefully told her father all about her perfect, proper Lady of a cousin carrying on a decidedly **improper** relationship with the bastard prince. Children of Noble Houses, especially Great Houses, didn’t carry on passionate love affairs, they married and had affairs afterward. It wasn’t that Jon objected to the idea of marrying Sansa, but she’d joined his party to **keep** from being married against her free choice. Frankly, he didn’t like the idea of being forced to the Sept or Godswood at swords-point either.

Sansa smirked. “Don’t worry. I put a _geas_ on Arya to keep her from discussing our relationship with anyone.”

“What?”

“Arya is too Chaotic by nature to understand why she shouldn’t tease us in public about our relationship, or complain to all and sundry that we’re being ‘soppy and lovey-dovey’ – that’s what she’d call it anyway. The first time she made a comment about me looking at you like a lemon cake, I offered to trim her hair and grabbed my chunk of Ametrine. As a bonus, Arya has learned a valuable lesson on exactly why I burn my hair and nail trimmings, and why she should too.”

Jon grinned in appreciation of her forethought and cleverness, and offered her a particularly succulent piece of rabbit. Sansa leaned forward and ate it from his hand, and as her tongue licked at his fingers, Jon idly wondered how many more times he and Sansa could mate before his cock simply refused to harden, because the stirring in his trousers testified that he would be ready again quite soon. Maybe it was his Stark ancestry – his Mama, who bore Stark blood but a Snow name, had told him the wolfsblood could surface like this, when one who bore it found their rightful mate.

When the rabbit was gone, they opened the single wineskin they had brought with them, talking of anything that occurred to them as they drank.

“You know I wanted you right from the start,” Jon remarked. “When did you start to want me?”

Sansa took a long gulp of wine, and bit her lip. “It was very soon. It surprised me, because attraction is usually something that takes awhile for me.”

“I did notice that you weren’t a maiden. Probably a good thing, considering the burn.” Jon took a swig of the wineskin. He wasn’t jealous – after all, he hadn’t been a virgin either – but he was quite determined to make Sansa forget every man she’d had before him.

“Hmm. That happened right before you came back to Court. It was my fallback position to get out of marrying Joffrey. Then you came along and I had a better plan to work with. When did I first realise _‘I want Jon to kiss me’_? Probably that first full moon after we met.”

Jon nuzzled behind her ear with the tip of his nose, breathing in the scent of her hair. “It was about four moons after we met that I realised I was in love with you. After that Quest to Oldcastle, with the Scuttle Crabs.”

“Blergh!” Sansa made a face. “Those things were disgusting. Good eating once we’d killed them though. Lord Locke gave me the amethyst on my choker for that one.”

Jon chuckled. “When we’d finished, Pyp was sitting on the ocean floor between the rocks to wash off the bubble attack, and Grenn was complaining about getting blood over his best spear. So I looked over at you - dripping wet from head to toe, your best tunic ruined with seawater, but you just smiled at me as if I’d offered you your own castle. And my whole mind echoed with nothing but the words ‘_I love you, Sansa’_.”

Sansa twisted to look at him. “Jon! Are you seriously telling me that you’ve been in love with me for longer than I’ve been in love with you?”

“...yes? How long have you been in love with me?”

Sansa settled back against his chest and sighed explosively. “About six moons, now. After that miserable Quest in Barrowton? I don’t know how many times during that mess that I looked at you and thought, ‘_I can keep going if Jon is with me_’. When bloody Lady Dustin finally paid us, my first thought was ‘_I need to get something for Jon_’. Then I wondered, ‘_Why am I always thinking about Jon_?’ and I realised.”

Sansa ended this pronouncement by turning the wine-skin upside down and shaking it. “Jon, we’re out of wine.”

“I think we are,” Jon agreed solemnly.

“Are we drunk, do you think?”

“Possibly.”

Sansa wriggled her bottom vigorously against his groin, and announced, “You’re not too drunk to fuck me, though, are you? Because I want to fuck you now.”

“Better make it slow, this time. If I move too fast I’ll get dizzy and have to stop.”

“Nooo!” Sansa whined. “No stopping!”

Jon pouted and poked her on the shoulder. “Then you need to get up so I can pull down my pants.”

Sansa shifted her legs to the outside of Jon’s, and rose up on her knees. “Do you want to mount me like a wolf again?”

“Later,” Jon told her as he laid on his back and unlaced his breeches again. He pushed them down to his boot-tops, leaving him bare to the knees. “You should mount me this time.”

Sansa smiled happily, and moved into position. She notched the tip of his cock into her entrance, and wriggled her way down, moaning the whole time until she was sitting on Jon’s hips.

“Ohhh, that feels **so good**,” Sansa moaned. She reached behind her, tracing a fingertip along the groove of Jon’s ridged stomach muscles. “You’re too far away, Jon, I can’t kiss you like this.”

Jon sat up, wrapping his arms around her midriff. Sansa arched her back to get her face close enough to his, and their mouths met and opened, joining in a deep kiss. Sansa started to rock her hips, reaching up with her right hand to twine her fingers in his hair. Jon used his left hand to hitch up the hem of the shirt she’d stolen from him, diving beneath to stroke and rub at the folds of her cunt. When he found her nub, Sansa’s breath hitched, and she tightened gently around him.

“Oh! I think I peaked, but softly,” she confided in him, her breath sweet with wine.

“That’s fine, love,” Jon told her. “I’m sure you can peak again.”

His right hand fondled her breasts over the tunic, leaving grease smears from the rabbit, fingerprints in streaks that turned to spirals where he gently pinched and twirled at her nipples.

“I love your cock,” Sansa sighed. “It’s just so big and long and fills me all the way up. I love being fucked with your cock. I never used to like fucking very much but I love fucking when I do it with you.”

“I’m so glad for that, love,” Jon huffed. “I love making you feel good. I love fucking you too. Better than anyone else. I love your cunt and the way it squeezes me when you peak.”

“You’re not going to stop fucking me, are you Jon? When we leave here?”

“Not a chance in all Seven Hells,” Jon vowed. “I’ll fuck you anytime you want, anywhere you want.”

“Really?” panted Sansa. “Anywhere?”

“I’ll take you to one of the Night’s Watch castles, and fuck you on top of the Wall, with the North and Beyond the Wall spread out beneath us as far as you can see. I’ll take you to Dorne, and we can fuck in the Water Gardens. Uncle Oberyn would probably want to join in, though.”

“Oh! Really?”

“Once he saw you naked, definitely,” Jon confirmed, rocking his hips a bit harder.

“Ooooh, right there, fuck me right there,” moaned Sansa. “Not sharing you.”

“Good. I’ll tell him and Ellaria to go away, then.” 

Sansa whimpered and tightened around him again. Jon squeezed her breast hard in reaction, to Sansa’s vocal approval. “Would you fuck me on the Iron Throne, Jon?”

Jon grunted. “That thing’s ugly, and everyone who sits on it is miserable or crazy. I don’t want to go anywhere near it, and you shouldn’t be anywhere near it either. But I’ll fuck you on the steps if you want. Mount you like a direwolf, or you could ride me like this again, with all the court watching, but I’m not sharing you either. They can just be jealous.”

Sansa’s hips were rolling faster, and Jon could feel his peak approaching. “I’d even fuck you in the Sept of Baelor, Sansa, with the High Septon’s jaw dropping from our sacrilege and all the Seven watching us as witnesses.”

Sansa cried out, and came again. Jon groaned and spilled inside her.

He never wanted to stop. He never wanted to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Gemstone notes:  
Blue Lace Agate is a stone of communication, helping those who have difficulty being heard by others, or who need confidence and articulation to share their truths. It provides clarity of thought and unwavering intent in regards to what matters most. Blue Lace Agate is a Stone of the Diplomat, assisting communication in situations where angry words must be avoided, but clear understanding is necessary.
> 
> Ametrine is a combination of Amethyst and Citrine in one stone. It is wonderful for communication, specifically public speaking, because it brings out assertive and outgoing qualities in the user. (So Sansa reversed that for the geas that prohibited Arya speaking on a certain subject.)


End file.
